“When are we going to learn about the mist?”
Shea heaved an internal sigh. That question had been asked in every class she’d taught. “That’s a different class. Your division leader needs to recommend you for placement. Any other questions.”
There were a few rumblings, but no one else raised their hand. Good.
*
Fallon stifled his impatience with his council, which was made up of the various clan heads that were in camp. The clan leaders and their betas for Horse, Lion, Earth, Rain, and Ember were all present. Rain and Ember were clans who had recently made the long journey from the Outlands to join the rest of the clans.
He’d had reports that their members were causing minor disruptions throughout camp and had been less than willing when their warriors had been assigned to the other divisions. There had already been several fights that had landed the offenders on punishment duty.
“All I’m saying is there is no reason to sit here and do nothing,” Joseph, the beta for Rain, said. The rest of the clans looked disgruntled that a beta was being so outspoken in a formal session. Normally only the heads spoke. The betas were there simply to know what was going on in case they ever had to step into the position of leader.
“You and your clan have not been here the past few months,” Henry, the leader of Horse clan, explained. “You do not understand the deeper strategy or the dangers afoot. Your plan would see many deaths.”
“We’re Trateri, not Lowlanders. We do not let fear of death dictate our actions,” the clan leader of Ember said. Zeph was a tall man with dark skin and dark eyes. He was one of the few Trateri to grow a beard. He was also known for his skill with bow and arrow and spear. His people were great hunters in their homelands and were second only to the Earth clan in creating weapons. “Your time here has made you soft, old friend.”
“There is a difference between courage and foolhardiness,” Fallon said before there could be any more argument. “Every hunter learns their prey and its habits before they strike. It is the same concept here. You are used to fighting the south-eastern cities. This is a different scenario, one that requires patience and learning a different set of tactics.”
Ben spoke, his eyes solemn. “Our enemy here is not the Lowlanders. We lose more men to beasts than we do in battle.”
Zeph grimaced. “There is no honor in such a death.”
Many in Fallon’s army agreed. It was causing dissent. The forced inactivity was making the discontent more vocal. Fallon needed to give them a direction for their frustration.
“My people are getting restless with all this sitting around and doing nothing,” Van said. He lounged in his chair with all the grace of a feline.
“What about a tournament?” Henry’s face was thoughtful.
That could work. It would give his soldiers an outlet and let them compete against each other for the glory of their clans.
The other clan leaders looked like they were considering the idea.
“There could be a prize for the winner,” Ben said. “My blacksmiths have several expert caliber swords that could be offered up.”
“Perhaps a prize from all the clans depending on the event,” Zeph said.
There were several murmurs of agreement.
“This still does not solve our problems,” Gawain said. He was the head of Rain, a short man that had a permanent scowl of dissatisfaction on his face.
Van’s exhale was angry. “All Rain seems capable of is complaining. Perhaps he is afraid that the months that he languished in the Outlands have made his people soft while the rest of us were conquering the Lowlands.”
Gawain glared at the other man. It was a sore point to him, since the clans who remained behind would not share in the war spoils. Those who had followed Fallon had reaped the rewards in tithes and would continue to do so now that the Lowlands were all but conquered. It was why Rain and Ember were so vocal about invading the Highlands.
“I don’t see why we haven’t made our move on the Highlands,” Gawain said. “We’ve captured one of theirs. From what I’ve heard, they all but gave us an engraved invitation.”
Fallon’s body went still, and his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. Darius stiffened beside him.
“And where did you hear that?” Fallon’s voice was silky as he leaned forward, every muscle in his body tensed to pounce. This was the Warlord speaking, and every one of them knew it as they looked at him with guarded expressions.
Gawain’s face was tight, but he didn’t back down. “Are you saying it’s not true?”
Fallon tapped his finger on his thigh, considering very carefully what tactic he wanted to take with this. Loyalty was a fickle thing. Doubly so when dealing with the clans. He had the backing of the soldiers and many in the lower castes. However, the clan heads and their betas were used to power. Some were with him because they wanted a reprieve from the infighting and thought consolidating the powerbase would keep them in their positions longer and prolong their life. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t turn on him at the first opportunity. How long could he hold the Trateri without their backing?
“I do not answer to you,” Fallon said. He looked at each clan head in turn. “To any of you. Your presence here is at my discretion. When I have news that I think pertains to you, I will share it. Until then, attend to your people. Rain and Ember—you are new to this camp, yet your people have caused many problems since arriving. I would be careful if I were you not to become too big of a nuisance. You would not want what happened to Snake clan to be repeated.”
More than one person looked away from Fallon. News of what he’d done to that clan had become a cautionary tale. Their leader had sought to assassinate Fallon and had even come close a time or two. When he’d caught up with her, he’d returned the favor and then executed her and all of her advisors. The rest of the clan, he’d disbanded. Some became outcasts, forced to the edges of their society where they still struggled to eke out a living.
Fallon stood, his point made. He might need the council’s good will but he wouldn’t be controlled by it.
“Henry, since the tournament was your idea, I’ll leave the planning to you,” Fallon said. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of a tournament, of a chance to pit the skills of his men against each other. He might even find time to join in on the events.
*
“Shea, Shea,” Clark’s voice called over the crowd. Shea looked up to find his curly hair bobbing up and down as he jumped and waved to her. He was shorter than most of the men surrounding him and disappeared as soon as he landed, only to pop back up again.
“He’s certainly an energetic guy,” Trenton observed with a wry voice next to her. He’d relieved Wilhelm at the midday meal.
They’d stopped at one of the cooks’ campfires to pick up something to eat before the afternoon classes that Shea was teaching on the mist. Daere was supposed to join them shortly, as was fast becoming her habit.
Shea ignored his comment and focused on Clark’s arrival. The younger boy looked excited as he finally made it to them.
“Did you two hear? There’s going to be an all-clan tournament in three days.”